


Nightcap

by ao3afterdark



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Bestiality, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, all my usual elements tbh to be utterly honest, honestly chess might have been a better alternative, words to consider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 22:59:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ao3afterdark/pseuds/ao3afterdark
Summary: Warden!bethany finds herself growing bored with the long, lonely hours of night watch. staring out at the empty landscape, with no other wardens around until shift change at dawn, not even allowed a book to pass the time- so she finds other ways to keep occupied and awake. For a while, things work out just fine, especially since she finds so little alone time elsewhere, but then her commander comes around for an unannounced inspection and catches her with her hand down her pants...





	Nightcap

The night watch, warden Bethany Hawke was quickly discovering, was nowhere near as exciting as Carver had vividly described to her as a child. They were far longer and far duller, broken only by the occasional bit of excitement that was a bit too exciting for her comfort, or anyone's with any sense. She stared out at an unchanging landscape wrapped in silence and deep purple shadows with a grimace. A painter would have loved it, but she, who would much rather be anywhere but here (and one place in particular, whispered a traitorous voice that sounded far too much like a pirate she had once known), it was dark and dull and dreadfully boring. They weren't allowed books to pass the time, and singing would attract whatever imagined horrors awaited any lone guardswoman on patrol, so that really only left one method of entertaining herself. 

Bethany glanced semi-casually up and down the battlements before spreading her legs a bit wider and working a hand down between her leathers. She found herself already wet and aching in anticipation of what had become a nightly ritual. Before becoming a warden, before these long, lonely nights, she'd only touched herself once, under Isabela's direction. She'd not known how before that, that you even could, but by now she had the fingers of a natural, and spread her folds on a sigh to work at her clit. The usual, comforting warm glow overtook her in slow waves, warming her belly like a nice mulled wine or what she imagined a first kiss would feel like, filling her up until her toes curled in her boots. She got so caught up in herself in fact, in rocking forward onto her own hand and whimpering out an old name, that she didn't hear the warden commander creep up behind her on silent feet. Not, that was, until he spoke. "How goes the watch, Hawke?"

Bethany nearly shrieked. She tore her hand out of her pants, but it was too late, she knew by the direction of his lazy-eyed look that he knew exactly what she had been doing. She tripped over her own tongue as she tried to come up with a story, and story, but he stopped her with an upheld hand. She went quiet and trembling, watching him. The warden commander was not known for being forgiving to anyone who shirked their duties, and what she'd done could definitely be considered that, if you unkind. 

"I suppose it goes without saying that that was hardly what I expected during an unannounced inspection, Hawke," he said after an agonizing silence had passed, spent staring at her with his hands behind his back. "And so it seems to me, we need a fitting punishment. Do you agree?" She mumbled something indecipherable, too terrified for anything approaching words, but he seemed to have taken it assent. "Good. I had hoped you would be sensible," he told her, and turned around without a word to head back down the battlement without looking back, clearly confident that she would follow him without needing to be told. And she did. Ashamed, fuming at herself, and with building terror in equal parts, but she did.

Along the way, they passed another warden, who the commander spoke to quietly for a few moments. She saw the warden's eyes flicker to hers for a moment, something almost pitying in her eyes, and then they passed by each other without another word as she was led into the keep's central courtyard. There, the commander told her to, "Remove your clothes and armor."

Bethany stood stiff and wide-eyed, hardly daring to believe what she had heard. Her nostrils flared as she panted harshly through her nose, willing this to not be happening. This wasn't what the stories had said wardens were supposed to be like. When the commander repeated himself, sharper, she flinched, but still did not move. Not until the commander came within inches of her and said half a hair from her face that she would disrobe in the next five seconds or face the worst consequences his very creative mind could come up with. 

That got her moving.

She averted her eyes down and away, not knowing where to look, if anywhere at all, as she shucked her boots. Normally she was so careful with her clothing, after a lifetime of protecting what little she had, but now her armor and tunic fell from nerveless fingers until she stood bare before him. He nodded once and led her, nude and shivering, to the set of manacles and chains set into the courtyard for public floggings. Here, Bethany couldn't help but freeze up, clutching herself with nerveless, white-knuckled fingers. She couldn't move forward one more step. "Move, Hawke," the commander told her, sounding like it was the most natural thing in the world to order a naked recruit into the main courtyard to be publicly shamed and beaten. "Or it'll go that much worse for you, I promise." She forced a deep breath into her lungs, then another, and stumbled forward. She didn't look away from him, not until she was forced onto her hands and knees, and even then, she looked at the sky, following the path of a bird winging its way between the stark black lines of stone. 

That serenity was short-lived. Her breaths shuddered out of her as her arms were pulled behind her as the commander pushed her forward onto her chest and expertly tied her hands behind her back by the wrists and forearms until she could barely move them an inch. Her feet were then seized one by one and manacled so that they were spread apart, just wide enough that she flushed again, this time from shame. All the more so when the commander pressed a gloved hand between her legs and dragged it up slow, slowly enough that she could feel every inch of every finger probing at the entrance to her cunt. "You a virgin, Hawke?" He asked, and she bit down on her lower lip to hold back a sob. "That a yes?" First one finger, then another, pressed more instantly at her folds, not quite going in. "Figured as much. Too tightly wound, need a good unspooling. And since it seems you're too spineless to do it with anyone but yourself," he went on, making her bite down hard on her lip until there were bright pinpricks of pain, "I thought to myself, might as well put that gaping cunt of yours to use."

She twisted her head, intending to say something, to argue, only for him to pull a blindfold over her eyes and cinch it tight. That was about the time she realized that she wasn't going to be flogged, that he had something altogether different in mind, and she started to curse. Loud and vulgar and spat between clenched teeth, the way her father had taught her, though he hadn't meant to. 

"Something to say at last?" The commander told her, and here, he too, had something new in his voice. Excitement. Without much more warning than that, he pushed his fingers into her. Bethany recoiled, fetching up hard on the cobblestones so that her cheek scraped with her attempt to curl away, but there was nowhere to go. He drove his fingers in and out of her slowly, mockingly, scissoring them wide until something else burned, but it was gone before she could figure out what it was. "Keep that spirit until morning, Hawke, and maybe I'll reconsider tomorrow's punishment," he told her in that old bored tone, and started to walk away.

She heard his footsteps ringing on the stones, heard him hum an old trail song to himself. Heard him tell someone else in a voice that carried to wake the garrison, he had been "gracious enough to provide them an evening's entertainment, they could at least be awake to make use of it."

"No!" Bethany yelled, struggling against her bindings to try to force herself into a sitting position. "You can't do this! I didn't- Come back!"

He did not come back, but others did. Just one and two, at first, skittish fingers that grew more confident when they found that she could only wriggle and curse and cry.

The first man who took her didn't talk to her, only pushed her legs far enough apart that she felt the bones in her hips creak and rocked his hips against her, grinding between the folds of her cunt with grunted words she couldn't hear, didn't want to. He kept this up for a minute, maybe two, during which time that curious warmth that almost burned came back, flaring brighter than before. And then he was shoving inside her, and she could only focus on being stretched and filled in a way she'd never been before, full to bursting, to gasping. She tumbled forward again onto her face, then again, pushed back and forth by every hard thrust. Every one scraped her raw and wide and open, all the more so when wide, wide hands came around to grip her breasts and haul her back with them so that the angle changed. His next thrust felt different enough that she gasped, eyes flying open wide behind the blindfold, uncertain and scared and awhirl with a dozen different questions she would never have the answers to, because in the next moment the man came to stuttering release. Warmth flooded deep inside her, blooming right next to that coil at the base of her spine, and then he was pulling out, trailing rivulets of that warmth behind him.

Then it was another man's turn. And another's. On and on it went, man after man after man, until hands and cocks and laughter blended together. Sometimes it was a thick cock shoved in her mouth alongside a rough groan and a hand fisted in her hair and a, "Come on, then, boy, no one's going to be impressed with your pike twirlin' when you have a piece like this in front of you." The man behind her groaned as he ran shaking hands over the sensitive skin of her ass and spread her cheeks to bare her to his gaze. "I had no idea you were hiding _this_ under your armor, Hawke," said a low, familiar voice, and then he was pushing into her long and slow and deep. She moaned around the cock in her mouth, her hips twitching restlessly until they were taken firmly in hand and hauled back until her ass was flush against the man's hips. She could feel him buried deep inside her, the twitch of his cock as he groaned a name aloud that wasn't hers, and then the pair of them were moving hard and fast, too fast for her to keep up with, or even want to.

Sometimes it was just one man, with rough hands and a rough voice, who shoved her head down onto the cobblestones with his foot and took her in the ass fast enough to leave her breathless and sobbing, scrabbling at the stones with bloody fingers. He talked to her in grunts she could barely understand, in curses. "Fuck you," he grit out, or she thought he did. "Look what you've made me do, with your smile and-" A gasp, a moan, hard, calloused hands wrapped around her neck to change her position and haul her up so that the unseen man could watch her full and heavy breasts sway with every thrust. "Your fucking tits, you-" On and on, bleeding away into the next, and the next.

Sometimes it was three men at once, one sliding beneath her to push into her sopping wet cunt even as a second shoved into her ass, making her lurch forward on a hoarse scream into a third cock that was fed into her mouth.

"Come on girly"s bled into "take it whore, you whore, knew it as soon as I saw you." 

Somewhere along the line her eyes started to flutter and her mouth drop open even when there wasn't a cock in it. It had started to feel good, really good, started to become impossible to sit still. Her cries when she was slapped became moans, became slides of her knees wider and wider still, admitting laughter and cocks, always at least one more.

And, always, she thanked them. "Thank you," she mumbled in a gasp as cum dripped from her mouth in thick strands as a man pulled himself free. He slapped her in the face with his still half-hard cock, a small shock in a night of indignities, and laughed. "You ought to be thankful," he told her. He hadn't bothered in trying to disguise his voice, and she recognized him as the sergeant who trained her every day only just as he settled on his knees behind her and pulled her back onto his cock. She whimpered beneath his chuckle. "We're doing you a favor and training you up the only way you seem to learn, Hawke. Hand-to-hand." She started to say something, some protest maybe, as he pushed her off of his cock until just the head remained inside, only to knock the words out of her in a rush as he slammed home hard. "This," he grunted, setting a rhythm, "is what you're good at, saw it the moment I set eyes on you. I told them," he said in an almost conversational tone, and now she could make out the sound of agreement, and the knowledge that there were others here, watching, burned cold through her and then hot. 

She tried her best to hold back her moans, but there were too many, too many sensations in an unending line, and finally she let out a long, low wail when the first mabari was directed to mount her, shoving a long, thick cock into her too fast and too hard to prepare for. "Good girl," crooned a voice she distantly recognized as the kennel master as a callused hand wrapped around her chin. Without direction, she opened her mouth. Eagerly now, knowing she'd be rewarded with more, more, and she was, the mabari was stuffing her cunt full again and again and again, wringing out moans and soft cries from both her and the kennel master. "Few more nights of this and they'll be sniffing after you every night, girl. You want that?" He pulled back out of her mouth just far enough that she whined, she keened as the mabari sped its strokes. "Look at you," the man admired, "just begging for it. We were wrong to say you wouldn't have your uses."

She lifted dazed, blindfolded eyes just in time to have her mouth put to use again. She didn't have to wait long until it was used again afterwards, and again after that, long hours that seemed endless. 

Finally, the courtyard was quieted of chanting men and cheers, and there was just one set of hands settled around her hips. "Learned your lessons yet, Hawke?" It was the commander. Bethany didn't know what to say, barely remembered how to talk after all that had gone on, but it didn't seem to matter, because he slowly pushed himself inside her until he was fully sheathed inside her all the same. He started to set a leisurely pace, the combined cum of dozens of men and dogs making each wet slap of the commander's balls against her ass sound even more obscene. "Do you hear how wet you are?" The commander laughed, pumping in and out of her with short snaps of his hips. "I knew you were this," he grunted, readjusted, and _slammed_ into her, making her cry out and buck back into his next thrust, earning an approving growl and a slap on the ass, "eager to spread that pretty cunt around the first fat cock you saw, I'd have had the garison to empty into your mouth instead of using the chalice."

She moaned aloud at that, all unwilling but unable to hold back, and he laughed. Grabbed her hair and tangled it around his fingers so that when he yanked, her back curled and thrust out her breasts in a way he must have liked, because he growled her name. "Keep this up, and I might just reassign you," he told her between rocks of his hips, burying himself as deep inside her as he could. The friction was unbelievable, was intense enough she couldn't help the whimpers scraping her throat raw, or the shameful pleas dripping from her mouth. 

"Please," she panted, "I need-"

"I know what you need, whore, don't you worry," the warden commander grunted, fucking her with harder, faster, until she was moaning for him and no one at all, for everyone, until his moans turned into a loud, wordless grown and he was hauling her back down every inch of his cock. She felt his release, felt it in every tremble of tense muscles, in every second of warmth blooming inside her, wrapping her up until she was crying out alongside him. For that one singular moment, she forgot her fear.

And then the moment was gone.

The warden commander shoved her off of him so that she collapsed face-first on the cobblestones and got back to his feet. It took a moment of heavy, expectant silence before she remembered herself and whispered, "Thank you."

"What was that?" His boots walked back into her field of vision. "That isn't what I asked for, is it? I asked for you to thank me for showing you what you were born for, recruit. Spreading your legs whenever I tell you to. And you say..."

"Thank you, warden commander," she gasped through shaking lips, nearing a sob, "for... for showing me what I was born for. Spreading, Spreading my legs..."

"Whenever I ask," he hummed in satisfaction. "Good girl. Now go get dressed. You still have a full shift to do before you do this again tonight."


End file.
